


Stabat Mater

by PyroPinkie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, I had a beta this time ( sorta ), Inspired by Music, M/M, Non Accurate History, Short One Shot, Stabat Mater by Woodkid, World War I, World War II, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:37:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroPinkie/pseuds/PyroPinkie
Summary: Short vignettes about Canada's relationship with Prussia based on the song "Stabat Mater" by Woodkid.





	Stabat Mater

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend listening to the song while reading this. I wrote it with the song heavily in mind.   
~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejSd_f-Atgo
> 
> I obviously don't own anything other than this story

~ In the glorious days, till we lost our way ~  
The drums resounded deafening in Matthew’s ears. He could hear horns in the distance. He grit his teeth as he trudged through the field. He could feel his men dying around him in a cacophony of pain and noise. It ate at his senses and blurred his vision. Matthew squinted behind his goggles. The tears didn’t help. His people were dying, and he could do nothing but fight alongside them.  
Matthew had long lost his brother and the other allies in the confusion and the pain. It was likely that they were still in Italy, while Matthew and his troops had marched into Germany. All his fellow countries were suffering. Matthew had heard his brother’s screams when the bombs fell in Pearl Harbor, how could he not?  
Matthew paused as he tried to hear his general’s shouting over the yelling and shots. He strained his muddled hearing but couldn’t decipher the words. He watched as the men ran around him away from the crest of the hill. He was exhausted, numb, and could feel only static. A pressure that was building to some unforeseen end. His vision was fading as more men fell to the ground. He followed as one man crawled off the green towards a large red tree. The young boy collapsed, his eyes still open towards the sky.  
The yelling was louder now. There was a panic thrumming just under Matthew’s skin, but his feet were rooted, and his eyes cast on the dead. The urgency was building.  
His mind exploded, a fresh agony blooming in his head. He crumpled to the floor as if he were weightless. His eyes were vacant as blood pooled around them. The urgency was still there. Everything was fading to black. The horns were louder, beating in time with his pulse. Louder and Louder. Urgent and demanding. Matthew’s eyes couldn’t close. He could only stare out in front of him at his flowing pool of blood sank into the hungry soil.

~ Hey, do you recall was the war was just a game? ~  
Matthew sat restlessly as he watched his brother play in the garden. He wanted to join, but Papa France said he needed to sit still while he met one of his friends. Matthew had been sitting for hours, and the friend still hadn’t shown up. He wanted to play with the colonies. He begged and gave Papa France his best puppy dog eyes.  
When the candle marked that the hour was well past when the friend was supposed to arrive, France relented, and Matthew rushed out of the drawing room. He joined Alfred in playing imaginary games with sticks. Alfred called it war. They played for the entirety of the afternoon. Eventually Alfred had gotten tired and wandered back to England. Matthew sat down in a field of flowers, just watching the sky blissful to the world.

~ Now the wind ventures to other plains ~  
The burning letter stared back at Matthew as it mocked him. Matthew stared back as the cruel words burned and blackened. When he had opened the letter moments ago, the news had him crying out in pain and sorrow.  
He knew that Europe had been coming to this point, the tension had finally broke and the whole world was being punished. Only a fool could not have seen the warnings from Germany. And now the atrocities were just starting.  
Only a cruel god could let this happen, and now Matthew would have to watch the destruction passively. The letter was eaten by the flames, its ash collecting at the bottom of his fireplace. The last sentence would haunt his waking thoughts and dreams for many years to come.  
Once more, Europe was going to war.

~ Hey, when will I see you again if I go? ~  
The world was still recovering from the first Great War, and Matthew was tensely and hastily walking down the streets of Berlin. He tried to ignore the stairs of the uniformed police officers as he carried his gift with his destination in mind.  
It wasn’t hard to see find the building that Gilbert and his brother called home. The building was much older than that of the other buildings nearby, and there were more police standing guard outside. Matthew calmly walked up to the police officer that blocked the gate to the house. He pulled his dignitary papers from his bag and showed them to the officer. The officer took them, reading silently. The man’s eyes widened, and he let Matthew pass with no question. Matthew walked past and up the stairs to the front door, discreetly looking back at all the armed officers with apprehension.  
Matthew knocked twice, waiting patiently for the door to open. When it was, Matthew was surprised at the speed and force that the man in front of him did so with. He was hurriedly pulled into the house and into waiting arms, as the door slammed behind him. Matthew smiled and melted into the warm embrace.  
He looked up into Gilbert’s bright eyes, frowning at the almost panic he saw.  
“What’s wrong?” Matthew pulled away slightly, staring intensely at Gilbert.  
“What are you doing here, Birdy? It is not safe, you could have been arrested.” Gilbert’s hold was almost bruising. Matthew smiled calmingly.  
“I have my papers, and I came to see you. As well as bring some gifts.” He took his bag from his shoulders and took out a small care package. Gilbert took but did not open it, simply placing it on a nearby end table. Gilbert took Matthew into his arms again, running his fingers in the blonde’s hair soothingly. He let out a shaky breath.

~ This train whistles and blows all sounds away ~  
Matthew sat with his head lowered, his hands clasped together. He watched as other enlistees said tearful goodbyes to their loved ones. The train station was crowded. Most of the men looked apologetic. Others tried to be happy for what could be the last time they saw the ones they loved.  
Matthew looked at children saying goodbye and could watch no more. He lowered his head and breathed deeply. He pulled his enlistee paper from his bag with deft hands. The noise of the station sounded like an echo now, gale winds fighting to be heard underwater. The words on his papers were blurry and Matthew could not read.  
The sudden and blaring sound of the train whistle had him jerking his head up at a nearby clock. A spell fell over the station for just a moment, and all was quiet. Then it passed. The ornamental gold of the clock shined almost blindingly. Matthew wearily stood up grabbing his lone bag and joined the men on the train.  
He had no one to wave goodbye too, no hand to hold as the train pulled away. His loved one was in Germany fighting on the wrong side.

~ Hey, how could we be close again? ~  
The heavy metal door creaked as Matthew pushed it open with great effort. His group was clearing out a camp they had found once they entered Germany. There was a dirt path, and some signs that led to the camp. Many war trucks had been lined up just outside the camp, but still there was a foul air of isolation hanging over everything. Matthew could feel the tension that the others in the brigade were feeling. He felt it like it was his own. Two others joined him in pulling out flashlights from their respective bags. They pointed them into the now open room and entered.  
They were all hit with the sickening smell of rot and decay. After coughing heavily, Matthew swept his flashlight over the room with trepidation.   
He jerked back and out of the building, wide eyed, as his stomach threatened to return his rations.  
The image of the room haunted Matthew, and the rest of the brigade was haunted as they unearthed more. More rooms filled with piles of the dead, rotting and nameless.

~ Now the night is bathing in disgrace ~  
Matthew stared at the ceiling of his tent as he lay motionless in his cot. He had been lying like this for hours. Quietly he slipped out the tent and walked around the makeshift base, staring at the stars. The tall trees enveloping the camp blocked much of the sky between leaves and branches. He walked slowly, feeling the pin pricks of his people dying far away and near. It was impossible to sleep. He closed his eyes, but the feeling only became sharper.

~ Hey, do you still braid some flowers in your hair? ~  
The lazy summer air was filled with laughter as two nations talked and relaxed. The two were sitting flower field that Matthew had spent a lot of time wandering when he was much younger. The two enjoyed their time together as they ignored the world around them. It was just the two of them in the field in that moment. Gilbert sat behind Matthew as he braided small flowers into the younger nation’s hair. His hair was almost too soft to keep the braids together, but the flowers pinned it all in place.  
Matthew laughed softly as he felt the flowers adorning his head like a crown. He smiled freely as he leaned back unto Gilbert’s chest. The two stayed like that, even as the sun set and the stars dotted the sky.

~ Come the sound of boots and metal chains ~  
Matthew awoke to a dull throbbing in his head. He had died. He could feel the phantom pain in his head from the bullet had torn through his skull and skin. Blood caked his face. He felt like he had woken to a hangover because he had woken from death.  
It was always a nasty, sordid, and agonizing affair to wake after being killed. Sometimes even more than dying. Of the ways Matthew had been killed, this was one of the worst. He tried to sit up but was roughly pulled back onto a cold metal table by manacles holding his hands down at his waist. Matthew started to panic, thrashing against his restraints. He stopped when he heard a door behind him open and close. He craned his head to see who had entered. He was met with harsh red eyes staring back at him. He turned his head away as his eyes started to tear. He opened his mouth to talk, but he was dehydrated, and his cracked dry lips could only cough. He wet his lips, letting one word out before he passed out, pulled under by the drums in his head.  
“Prussia.”

~ Hey, will the perfume of the Daisies remain? ~  
Matthew’s hair was matted, dirty, and he suspected he would have to cut most of it away if he returned home. Prussia had let him leave the examining room where he would likely been examined like a butterfly is pinned under the hands of the doctor. Matthew had seen the malnourished and hopeless enter the medical rooms and only leave to be placed in one of the many nameless graves. No, he was spared that fate, instead Matthew was used for labor at the camp.  
He was given more rations than the others, so he gave his ration to the others in the camp to alleviate some of their pain. He tried to be their comfort in this hell.  
Matthew could feel as his body wasted away, but he became more numb every day. His nation and his people were suffering, and so he suffered.  
He could feel the gaze of those blood-like eyes nearly every day. The gaze killed him inside more and more. He never looked back at those eyes.

~ A circus of horses dancing in the bay. Hey, now the fire’s in the way ~  
The camp was on fire. Matthew watched prone from the ground alongside many other too tired to move.  
He heard yelling. Shouting coming his way.  
It was so different from the constant stream of German that had accosted Matthew’s ears for so long that he nearly didn’t recognize it as English.  
The noise washed over him.  
He closed his eyes.

~ The past is sucked by quicksand I’m afraid ~  
Matthew sat on the wall, tearing at the barbs and bringing down a chisel alongside the other West and East Berliners that had gathered at the wall. He was yelling and singing loudly with the crowd. Others danced atop the wall.  
Matthew jumped down from his position and helped pull down on the wall’s section. It came down with a cheer and soon more was joining. People poured through the gaping section and were greeted with hugs and tears.  
Matthew took a step back and watched the Berliners finish the job. It was a happy night that spilled into the day. Matthew smiled softly. He hadn’t moved in all the hours that the East Berliners entered West Berlin. Eventually the stream stopped. No more were coming through the wall.  
He stood alone as he watched East and West Berlin be reunited. And he sobbed as his legs collapsed from under him.

~ Hey, do you recall when the war was just a game? ~


End file.
